


Recalcitrance and Reservation (R&R)

by a_phoeniceus



Series: HQ Queer Girl Collective [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Genderbend, Genderbending, Hook-Up, Lesbians, Queer Themes, queer girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11167023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_phoeniceus/pseuds/a_phoeniceus
Summary: College is all about freedom and exploration. Non-exclusivity, hook-ups, and fresh labels are all a part of the experience. When there are new ways to define and pursue relationships, it's impossible to know what to say or what to do. At least, that's the situation Tetsurou Kuroo and Kei Tsukishima find themselves in, after months of a very defined, but very uncertain, arrangement.This is a part of my HQ Queer Girl Collective! It's shorter than the others, and can be read as a stand-alone!





	1. Sleeping Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a play on "Rest & Relaxation," and I decided to explore some different ways of writing with this piece. Enjoy!

Kei Tsukishima is laying in bed with Testuro Kuroo, facing out towards the room and contemplating the decisions that led her here. She feels restless, despite the physical exhaustion settling beneath her skin. Kuroo is unconcerned, as she’s dozing off with her chest pressed to Tsukishima’s back and her face buried in her hair. One arm is looped loosely around Tsukishima’s waist. This is the way it seems to always go, and Tsukishima doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

It’s early fall, and the room is beginning to feel too warm to remain in bed with another person, so Tsukishima shifts to put distance between them. When the cool air of the room hits her back, she sighs. Where they were connected, she felt hot and sticky and stifled.

Now almost completely asleep, Kurro grumbles and digs herself a little deeper into Tsukishima’s space. At this point, Tsukishima knows that it’s just about impossible to wake her, and the opportunity becomes the channel for her restlessness. She shifts again, inching across the narrow bed until she is sliding out of Kuroo’s grasp and off of the bed to crouch on the floor. 

She holds her breath, mostly out of habit, and listens closely to see if Kuroo stirs. She doesn’t, of course, so Tsukishima paws at the floor in the dark until she finds her discarded clothing. It’s well past midnight, they both have class in the morning, and Tsukishima would rather be in her own bed. Somehow, Kuroo managed to convince her to come over, again, despite Tsukishima wanting to limit their time together to the weekends. She feels like the chore of finding her clothing in the dark is part of her punishment for agreeing to come over.

Her fingertips glance across the familiar, satin-like material of her bra and she grabs it. She slips it on before locating her shirt, panties, and pants. The entire time, the sound of her rustling around on the floor and the heavy, contented sound of Kuroo’s breathing are the only noises in the room.

Tsukishima only finds one sock, and finds herself growing increasingly irritated at the girl asleep on the bed behind her, as if she were the one to blame. Tsukishima  _ could _ get up and turn on the light to find her things, but that would mean disturbing Kuroo. She wants to slip out without her noticing, so that she doesn’t have to deal with her. She doesn’t want that stupid, bed-headed, overly-confident Casanova sitting up, eyes half lidded with sleep, to beckon her back to the bed.

Because Tsukishima, for whatever godforsaken, ridiculous, unknowable reason, can never walk away from an opportunity involving Kuroo and her bed. Or Kuroo and the back of her car. Or Kuroo and a private library study room. Or Kuroo and any place she proposes in her raspy, seductive voice. 

She sits back against the bed and lets her head fall back to the mattress, where she closes her eyes despite the lack of light in the room. She waits, thinking that maybe the sock will just  _ appear _ and she’ll be able to leave with her dignity intact.

Whenever she can, she leaves discreetly. It’s best when Kuroo is asleep, but Tsukishima has bolted when she’s gone to the bathroom before. And if she can avoid saying goodbye to Kuroo  _ and _ her insufferable roommate, Bokuto, it’s as good as it gets.

After a moment, Kuroo’s breathing starts to irritate her again and she’s patting the ground around the bed and she finds it. Relieved, she finishes dressing and grabs her phone from the bedside table. She checks the time and inwardly scolds herself for staying out so late with Kuroo  _ again _ . 

Tsukishima slides her phone into her back pocket and slips out of the room, being careful to step lightly over the perpetual mess covering the floor. She opens the bedroom door, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. She glances back at Kuroo, and sees that she’s rolled over to face the wall, and is curled up more than usual.

It catches Tsukishima’s attention, because she didn’t hear her move. Her curiosity, however, is fleeting, and she leaves, closing the door as quietly as she can behind her.

When she makes it to the front door to put on her shoes, she doesn’t notice the mismatching patterns of her socks. She simply rams her feet into her boots while pulling her fall coat over her shoulders. A moment after that, she’s making her way out of the apartment and down the long hallway to the building exit.

Back in the apartment, Kuroo rolls over onto her back and sighs. She felt it when Tsukishima got up to leave, and heard her moving around to get dressed in the dark. She reaches for her phone and presses the home button to glance at the time, wishing that Tsukishima would stay the entire night just once. If not to stay next to her, then to at least refrain from crossing the campus in the middle of the night. She knows better than to ask, though.

For now, she stretches and gets up to use the bathroom, not bothering with clothing or a light. She’s naked, a casual consequence of all of Tsukishima’s visits, and doesn’t care if Bokuto sees her, if her roommate is even awake. They shared a room freshman year, and saw plenty of each other then, another glimpse wouldn’t kill either of them now.

Kuroo thinks of all of this on her way to and from the bathroom. Upon her return to her room, the light from the hallway illuminates an unfamiliar sock in the center of the room. It stands out amongst her own clutter almost immediately. Curious, Kuroo closes the door behind her but goes to turn on her bedside lamp. She sits on the edge of the bed and stares down at it. It’s a typical ankle-height sock, patterned with mint green dinosaurs on a dark blue background. Kuroo stares at it, as if it could tell her about all the reasons Tsukishima always comes over but never stays.

She should know, because they had decided ages ago what their rules were, but finds herself wondering about it from time to time anyway.

She lets herself fall back into bed, then rolls over to try to sleep.

 

The next morning, Tsukishima wakes up to a text message from Kuroo. It’s a photo of her sock, captioned with  _ Something sexy to remember you by? _

She drops her phone on the pillow beside her and sits up to crawl to the other end of the bed, where her laundry basket sits. She’d gotten back so late that she undressed and got ready for sleep on autopilot. She didn’t pay attention to her clothes, but after rifling in the basket, she sees what must be Kuroo’s sock, which she’d mistakenly grabbed in the dark.

She clenches her jaw and stubbornly crawls back into bed, refusing to take Kuroo’s playful, teasing bait. She grabs her phone and lays back into her pillows, staring at the picture message.

Tsukishima tells herself that she’ll answer it later, after she’s had some coffee and maybe a shower to wash off the shadows of last night’s romp. She tells herself this, but is already typing a snarky message in reply.

_ Burn it _

Kuroo’s reply is almost instantaneous,  _ Your other one will be lonely _

She snorts, and quickly taps out:  _ Your room is a disaster, it’s contaminated _

_ Doesn’t stop you from coming back, though ;) _

When she reads that, she drops her phone on her comforter as if it burned her. She really, truly hates being reminded of their arrangement, despite the fact that she  _ does _ keep going back, willingly and almost eagerly.

The whole thing started last school year, towards the end. Tsukishima was a freshman, and had been figuring out how to navigate the social scene without throwing herself completely into sports or extracurriculars. She had gotten enough volleyball talk drilled into her head during her three years at Karasuno, and despite the fact that she enjoyed the sport, she wanted a little break from it. Somehow, her attempts at distancing herself from volleyball had propelled Kuroo right into her life.

They’d run into each other at a party, hosted by some distant, but mutual friend of theirs. By the time Kuroo had arrived, Tsukishima had been uncharacteristically shitfaced, for reasons she didn’t like to dwell on. She wasn’t too drunk to throw herself completely at Kuroo, unfortunately, and they had hooked up. The first night, it had just been an intense makeout, to drunk Tsukishima’s dismay and Kuroo’s pleasant surprise. Tsukishima vaguely remembers pushing for more, but has the impression that Kuroo put a gentle stop to their progress. The details are still fuzzy, and she hasn’t brought it up at all.

Then, one hook up became two, which became three, which turned into an almost routine, biweekly boning. They probably meet up once a week on average, now, and while Tsukishima didn’t want it to spill over from the weekends into the weekdays, they’d passed that point months ago.

The turning point was the summer, when they had both coincidentally stayed on campus to work. Their proximity and the empty campus facilitated their arrangement, and sleeping together, but not really hanging out, had become their biggest pastime. 

Now that it was the school year, things had slowed, but not by much, and Tsukishima was actively trying to change that. She didn’t want to be wrapped up in Kuroo anymore. It was too much work, despite the lack of expectations and the easy, carefree way Kuroo treated their arrangement. They were non-exclusive friends with benefits, which had been working out perfectly fine, until now.

Now Tsukishima is constantly irritated, for almost no reason, and she is tired of all of Kuroo’s relentless, cheesy flirtation.

She gets up out of bed to shake off the feelings threatening to send her into a thoroughly bad mood, and goes to take a shower. 


	2. Changing Tides

Kuroo stares down at her phone, rubbing the back of her neck as she waits for Tsukishima to reply to her message. She sighs when it doesn’t come immediately, and scrolls up through their message chain.

Like she’d feared, Kuroo’s little speech bubbles make up almost three quarters of the thread. The yellow bubbles backing her messages also always start and end the days’ correspondences, which makes her feel a little clingy. She sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and picks it up again immediately, to check to see if maybe the message came while she was scrolling. (Because sometimes, on her phone, if she’s in the thread, she doesn’t get the alert for a new message.) There’s nothing, which she sort of expected. 

Bokuto enters the kitchen, wearing an oversized tee and a ratty pair of boxers, yawning and ruffling her ridiculous hair. She’s a tall, fit gal with bright amber eyes and a more-on-top haircut. The sides are cut close, but the longer, black-and-grey top is wild and always disheveled. Now it stuck up, making it look like a failed attempt at a mohawk, which Kuroo is quick to tell her.

“ _ You _ look like a failed attempt at a mohawk,” she fires back, walking to the coffee maker. She glances over her shoulder to Kuroo, who is staring at her phone with an unintentionally miserable look on her face. “Did Tsukki come over again?”

Kuroo glances up and asks, “Yeah, did you hear her leave?”

“Nah, you always look at your phone like you’re a lost puppy after she comes over.”

Groaning, she pushes on the counter and pointedly looks away, “It’s been like, seven months and I still can’t get a read on her.”

Shrugging, Bokuto says, “Dude, she doesn’t  _ want _ you to get a read on her. You know that if she doesn’t want to do something, it doesn’t happen.”

“Oh, I know, I’m pretty familiar with what she  _ does _ want,” she says, raising her eyebrows suggestively. She almost adds ‘ _ She always wants a piece of  _ this  _ fine ass’ _ but thinks better of it. For once, less is more.

“Gross,” Bokuto says, half joking as she fills the coffee pot with water at the sink. “But seriously, is your setup not working for you anymore?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just weird.” she says, leaning her hip against the counter and looking out the kitchen window. There’s a huge maple tree blocking the view of the apartment parking lot. The leaves are starting to turn. 

Bokuto’s voice draws her attention back to the present when she asks,“Weird how?”

Kuroo watches as she readies the coffee maker, mildly impressed by the lack of mess that usually accompanies her attempts to make a pot of joe. “I don’t know. Everyone else is flirty, this is almost like, a business arrangement.”

Bokuto runs a hand through her ridiculous hair and says flatly, “What did you expect? You both agreed on no feelings,  _ at all, _ so there are no feelings.” She freezes, then, her hand halfway lowered from her head, “Wait, unless you caught feelings? Hey, hey,  _ hey _ ,” she comes and leans against the counter on the opposite side of Kuroo, putting all her weight on her hands. She leans forward, her expression weirdly focused and intense, and asks, “ _ Did _ you catch feelings?”

Absently turning her phone over in her hands, she says, “ _ No _ , definitely not, it’s just hard to know when I’m overstepping with her, since she’s so hard to read.” This is true.

“Alright,” she says, sounding unconvinced. She gives Kuroo a long, level look and then looks back to the coffee maker, which had started to drip steadily. Then, changing the subject, she said, “Hey, Akaashi is throwing another party tomorrow, wanna go?”

Not one to turn down an invitation, Kuroo agrees, thinking fleetingly of one of Akaashi’s other parties, where she and Tsukishima had begun their arrangement. After she deciphers the details from Bokuto’s endless pining towards the cool, aloof, and undoubtedly gorgeous hostess, she starts to get ready for the day.

The rest of Kuroo’s morning proceeds with a comforting predictability, she struggles through her first class because she’s exhausted from the night before, and then she struggles through a shift at the campus bookstore for similar reasons, until finally she makes it to lunch, where she can take a break. She opts to skip the line at the cafeteria and heads to a nearby convenience store instead. 

She’s paying for her sandwich, juggling a fruity soda, a bag of chips, and a chocolate bar when she spots Tsukishima entering through the sliding glass door. She almost drops her things out of surprise, but manages to pay and scoop her purchases into a bag in record time. Kuroo tries to rope her into a conversation before Tsukishima can spot her and bolt, which has happened more than once. “Kei!”

Tsukishima’s usually stoic face transforms quickly into an expression of displeasure at the sound of her name. She greets Kuroo politely, however, with an unnecessary degree of formality. Her long blonde hair is swept back into a functional braid, which rests over one shoulder and on top of the strap of her bookbag. 

“Are you busy tomorrow night?” Kuroo asks, trying to play it cool as she ties the handles of her plastic bag together.

Tsukishima’s eyebrows pique, just barely, in interest. “I have dinner with someone, but afterwards I’m free.” She wonders briefly why she is making herself available to Kuroo again.

“Well, Akaashi is throwing another party. Do you want to come?” The temptation to ask who she is having dinner with is present but not overwhelming.

Scanning the store in thought, she shrugs halfheartedly. “I guess so. What time does it start?”

With a catlike grin, Kuroo tells her that it starts at ten. “It’s at her place, do you remember where it is?”

“Yeah, I remember. I’ll be there.”

There’s a long, awkward moment between them, when they should have been saying goodbye. It’s quiet and drawn out, because neither of them knows which is the socially acceptable way to part with their long-term, non-romantic, non-exclusive fuck buddy. 

“Ah,” Kuroo finally caves under the pressure and shifts her weight on her feet. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow,” she almost wants to ask about the sock, or if she should plan on seeing her after the party, but she decides against it. There are other people she could meet up with tomorrow night, but none as appealing as Tsukishima. She avoids asking because she doesn’t want to scare her away from attending. 

“Yeah.” 

Kuroo slips out, then, and tries not to flee as she leaves the store.

 

Tsukishima’s dinner is with Tadashi Yamaguchi, an awkward girl with long wavy hair and a smattering of freckles dusting her round features. When they meet, it’s the first time in almost a year.

She isn’t sure what to expect from her old friend, because it was Yamaguchi that had asked for space. Yamaguchi came out as asexual when they were in high school, and their relationship didn’t change in the least. The tipping point was when she’d confessed her romantic feelings for Tsukishima during their freshman year of college.

Unable to see her childhood friend in that way, and frankly incapable of seeing herself in relationship where she wasn’t the object of sexual attraction, she’d politely declined the confession. Yamaguchi’s reaction was unsurprised, and her request for space had sounded rehearsed and well thought-out. The entire exchange had left Tsukishima feeling something similar to guilt, but she had respected Yamaguchi’s request for space.

Feeling a bit adrift without her, Tsukishima navigated collegiate life up to this point alone. At first, it’d been kind of nice, but she’d been slow to make new friends. No one can really replace a childhood friend.

She was nervous about meeting Yamaguchi again, but at the sight of her sitting outside the diner and waiting, she feels relief. 

“Ah, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi spots her almost immediate and stands up. Her smile is huge, and her gestures are bright with excitement.

“Yamaguchi,” she says, with a warmth that she’d only ever used for her.

Their greeting is familiar and comforting, and they order at the cramped, messy counter before picking a table in the back to talk. As they wait for their food, Yamaguchi dives into asking Tsukishima a string of questions in rapid fire succession.

The first are straightforward and safe: “How are your classes? Is your apartment nice? How is your sister?”

Tsukishima answers without thinking too hard about any of her answers, occasionally asking a question or two of her own as the conversation begins to flow more easily between them. It’s when their food arrives that Yamaguchi asks a question Tsukishima finds more difficult to answer.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

It makes her feel awkward at first, because part of why they went separate ways is because they couldn’t have been seeing each other. She makes time for herself to think by taking a bite of her food first. She’d ordered something vaguely American, which came with a bowl of soup and a slice of bread. As she chews, she thinks about the few people she’s had coffee with, or made out with in dark rooms, and then Kuroo.

“Not really,” she says finally. “You?”


	3. Cold Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.

Tsukishima wears her hair down for the party. The only time she wears it loose is when she goes out, otherwise she braids it or ties it up in a pony tail. Her conversation with Yamaguchi from the day before rolls around in her head. They’d talked for a couple of hours, catching up, and it seemed like they would be able to be close again, which is a big relief to both of them. 

Her brain keeps going back to her answer about not really seeing anyone. She hadn’t told Yamaguchi about Kuroo at all, and she was beginning to feel dishonest. 

Their arrangement is private, though, so Tsukishima tries to ignore the guilty feeling spreading through her and instead focuses on getting ready.

She isn’t really feeling it, but thinks she should go out anyway. She figures that she won’t go home with Kuroo, or anyone, because she doesn’t want to deal with kicking someone out the next morning. Thumbing the hem of her oversize, chunky knit sweater, she gives herself one more once-over besides deciding to slip her feet into a pair of boots and leave. She feels like her look is more appropriate for a date than a party, but she pushes that idea out of her  mind as she walks. 

While she makes her way across the campus, she makes herself think about the kind of music Akaashi might choose instead of Yamaguchi and Kuroo. The other girl has incredible taste, which Tsukishima finds refreshing and somehow unlikely, given her quiet demeanor. 

There are dozens of other students milling about, all looking ready for the weekend. Tsukishima passes a gaggle of boys dressed in “fashionable” streetwear and rolls her eyes. One of them tries to make eye contact, but she ignores him with an effortless grace. Boys have never interested her, and even if they did, it’d be impossible for any of them to meet her standards.

She watches people as they pass, or as she passes them, taking in the careful way they’ve styled themselves. It bothers her, the way people put on costumes for their nights out, but she keeps her judgement to herself. She pushes her hands into her pockets as she rounds onto Akaashi’s street.

Her place is one half of a duplex just a few doors down from where Tsukishima turned, and she can see from her spot on the block that there’s already a crowd spilling out the door and onto the lawn. It’s still early, but the party seems to be in full swing. There’s loud music, and a couple of people already seem unsteady on their feet. Impressed by the progress, she heads inside.

The music's too loud for conversation in the living room, and she doesn’t see anyone she knows in the throng of people filling the space. She wedges herself through, using her height to shoulder past those not paying attention, and heads to the kitchen. There, she finds Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi standing near the counter, talking while they fix themselves something to drink. This room is quieter and less rowdy than the living room and the lawn, despite the extensive display of drinks and snacks. There are a few other people Tsukishima doesn’t recognize, and she doesn’t care enough to acknowledge them. She goes to join the trio and get herself a beer. 

Kuroo feels Tsukishima’s entrance the way she would have felt a cool breeze on a summer night. She shifts towards her, greeting her before her brain has fully processed the arrival. She’s already feeling a little drunk, and can’t help but notice how breathtakingly  _ stunning _ Tsukishima is. She’s tall, slender, and intimidating, which makes for an aura too magnetic for her to resist.

Akaashi says hello first, and Kuroo can feel Bokuto’s eyes on her. She tries to ignore her friend and takes a sip of her drink to keep from staring too much at Tsukishima, who gives Akaashi a polite greeting in turn.

“Hey,” is what Kuroo gets from her, which she happily accepts.

“Hey, can I get you anything?” she gestures to the mess of bottles, cups, and sticky shot glasses lining the counter. 

“There’s beer in the fridge, too,” Bokuto interjects, slinging an arm around Akaashi’s shoulder in the process. Akaashi’s stoic features soften, just barely, at the contact, Tsukishima notices. She stores the information away in case she needs it later.

“Beer is fine.”

Kuroo, closest to the fridge, turns diligently and fishes out a bottle of the least-cheap beer in the fridge. The options are a mixed bag, ranging from canned off-brand light beer to a handful of drinkable bottles. She pops the cap off with a lighter she fished from her pocket and hands it to Tsukishima, who rolls her eyes at the gesture. Kuroo grins, feeling weirdly satisfied that Tsukishima had seen through her cheesy attempt to impress her.

Bokuto starts to ask Tsukishima questions about the beer, and Kuroo listens with one ear as she tries to figure out what she wants to get out of the night. The vibes surrounding Tsukishima aren’t particularly inviting, but she wants to be close to her, at least. It’s a difficult line to walk, and seems to be getting harder every day.

“I for one,” Bokuto says bolder, her voice louder than usual, “Enjoy darker beers. I love a good, dark stout.” She glances at Akaashi sneakily as she says this, and Kuroo bites back the urge to laugh at the flimsy line. Bokuto sees her friend’s expression and adds, “Kuroo tends to like the lighter stuff, though. Right? Wheat ales and blondes?”

Akaashi and Tsukishima share a look, because they’re both too smart for their own good, and wordlessly agree to leave.

“Wait, wait--” Bokuto starts, all but jumping after them. She trails them into the living room, leaving Kuroo in the kitchen.

With a deep breath, Kuroo eyes her drink. It’s almost empty, so she turns and finds the least sticky shot glass out of all of them, which happens to be a double. She fills it to the brim with vodka from a plastic bottle and downs it. It’s cheap and burns all the way down, making her gasp after she swallows. She chases it with the last of her mixed drink, which is a weird punch combination Bokuto insists on calling “jungle juice.” Her stomach gives her a warning lurch at the alcoholic chaser, so she fills her cup with water and chugs that. Once it’s empty, she makes another drink and heads to the living room, where people have started to dance.

The room is dimly lit, brightened only by strings of colorful lights that surely came from a bargain store. The effect is good, though, and there are a handful of spherical clusters of them hanging from the ceiling throughout the room. Those flicker, their patterns occasionally lining up with the beat of the music. The air is thick and humid from the dancing bodies and spilled drinks. The floor is a little sticky under her shoes and a hum of excitement rolls through her body.

It’s a struggle to find the rest of her friends, and Kuroo gets jostled by a cute girl in the process. There’s a slurred apology, the sloshing of a too-full drink, and a  _ really _ genuine compliment from the jostler, and Kuroo grins. The drink spilled on her sleeve, just a little, but the way this drunk girl is eyeing her up is too comical, and she ends up forgiving her instantly. The cutie’s companion doesn’t appreciate the exchange and drags her away, which clears Kuroo’s line of vision enough for her to spot the three of them on the other side of the room.

She pauses, though, when she sees Akaashi touch Tsukishima’s shoulder and lean close. Her hand rests on her shoulder, and she drops her lips to Tsukishima’s ears. The gesture is familiar, and strikes Kuroo as odd. As far as she knows, their relationship is limited to the weekends, and confined beyond that to Akaashi’s parties. Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice, because she’s too busy dancing with her eyes closed and her drink held safely above her shoulder. 

Her heart beats once, hard, and she experiences a lightheaded rush that makes her jump to a spectacular conclusion:  _ Akaashi and Tsukishima. _

Clamping down on the idea, Kuroo threads her way through the crowd until she’s interrupting whatever is passing between the two. They straighten up to acknowledge her when she comes close, their conversation over the moment she arrives. “Hey,” she says loudly, her voice lost amidst the din of the party, she gestures Tsukishima closer, and asks “Want to dance?”

Tsukishima eyes her beer, which is still pretty full, and shrugs, “When I’m done with this,” she mouths. Kuroo sighs, reading those waves of unapproachability all over again. That intimate gesture crosses her mind again, and she realizes that the two would be a good match. The idea makes her stomach twist, but she blames the feeling on the alcohol.

Instead of making a fool of herself by trying to edge into their bubble even more, Kuroo pushes her hair out of her face and says, to no one, “I’m going to dance,” and slips away before her message fully registers. She heads away from them, so Bokuto doesn’t have the chance to pull her into anything reckless.

By the end of the night, she’s dancing (grinding) with the girl with the spilled drink. They’re on different levels of trashed but on the same page in terms of mutual attraction. She tastes fruity and sweet, and melts in Kuroo’s arms as they stumble out of their circle of space. There’s a break in the music, and the girl turns her wide eyes to look up at Kuroo, and suggests they leave. They’re both breathing hard from dancing and making out, and Kuroo’s brain forces her to look away instead of answering. At that moment, through her drunken haze, she sees Tsukishima slipping out the front door. She remembers, when she sees her zip her jacket high and throw her loose hair over one shoulder, that she had agreed to dance with her. Then, when she vanishes from view, Kuroo’s stomach drops.


	4. Misaligned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been going through some stuff, updates will be sporadic. I do hope to finish this soon, there's not much left.

Tsukishima is bothered. 

She’s not bothered that Kuroo basically blew her off to hook up with someone else.

Well.

She’s bothered at herself because she  _ is _ something that could be considered bothered, under the right conditions, because Kuroo basically blew her off to hook up with someone else at Akaashi’s party. 

She doesn’t know why she’s annoyed. At first, she thought it was because Kuroo had only said two things to her the entire night. But she hadn’t necessarily gone to the party to see Kuroo. She wasn’t planning on leaving with her, so what was it?

It’s not the fact that she’d been making out with someone else. Their arrangement is not exclusive. They both have other people that they see on occasion, and they are both at least peripherally aware of the other’s activities. Sure, Tsukishima saw her more than any other person, and she was fairly certain it was the same for Kuroo, but she couldn’t pinpoint the root of her feelings. 

She is at the library, browsing her phone but not really reading what she’s scrolling through. Her study materials are spread out on the table around her, and the library is mostly dead. It’s a Saturday afternoon and most of the campus is probably still in bed. 

She takes a deep breath and puts her phone down, taking in the stillness of the library. She hears someone cough from somewhere out of sight, and then her phone buzzes on the table. It’s a text from Kuroo, which she doesn’t open. Instead, she puts her phone facedown on the table and tries to get to work.

After she gets halfway through one of her assignments, she hears someone approach and politely clear their throat. When she glances up, she sees Yamaguchi, her cheeks slightly pink from the outside chill and a smile on her face.

“Hey, Tsukki, can I sit with you?”

Tsukishima nods in greeting, “Of course.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Yamaguchi says, sliding her backpack off of her shoulders. She sets it on the desk and starts to pull out an assortment of books and notebooks.

“I have a big assignment coming up, but I’m a little behind on a few other things,” she gestured at the papers closest to her.

Yamaguchi pauses in taking off her coat, “Behind? That seems a little unlike you. Is something on your mind?”

Tsukishima is amazed that they are able to slip back into their friendship so easily. After almost a year apart, one dinner is all it took for them to be friends again. She taps her pencil on the other wrist, “Sort of, nothing major.”

“Oh?” Yamaguchi settles into her chair, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Sighing, Tsukishima shrugs and glances around the library. It’s still dead, so she says, “I’ve been in this weird friends with benefits thing with someone, and today I’m a little bothered about it.”

“Bothered?” her expression changes from curiosity to concern, and Tsukishima quickly waves her off.

“Nothing happened, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and it just doesn’t feel like it’s working for me anymore.” This feels true.

“So, end it?” Yamaguchi watches Tsukishima’s face and absently flips through the pages of her book. Tsukishima notices that it’s in English but doesn’t catch the title.

“I guess,” the suggestion isn’t exactly what she wants to do.

Yamaguchi picks up on this, because she adds, “Or maybe, end things as they are, and make it something different?”

“Hm,” Tsukishima eyes her phone, “I guess I don’t know what that would look like yet.”

“That’s the place to start, then,” she replies with a cheeky grin.

Tsukishima snorts and says drily, “When did  _ you _ get so wise?”

“I’ve just had a lot of time to think lately,” she says it lightly, but the way she’s looking down and to the side makes Tsukishima want to ask more, and to make up for lost time in some way.

_ But, if she needed that time for herself, it’s wasn’t exactly lost, _ she reminds herself. “Well,” she decides, “It suits you. What are you working on?”

The change in subject is appreciated, and Yamaguchi brightens up again, “It’s for this English literature class I’m in. I decided to do a semester in the states so I’m taking all of these English-language classes.”

Impressed, Tsukishima hums. “Which semester?”

“Not the next one, but the one after.” It’s obvious that she’s really excited about going.

“That’s great,” Tsukishima grins, wanting to share in her friend’s happiness, but feeling disappointed. There’s another separation on the horizon.

They chit chat for a while longer, about their coursework and their weekend plans. Tsukishima briefly mentions the previous night’s party, but doesn’t elaborate on the details with Kuroo. She thinks that Yamaguchi might have noticed her subtle avoidance, but leaves that for another time. Eventually, they get to work, pausing only to complain about their assignments.

When Yamaguchi leaves for a study group, Tsukishima looks at her phone. She stares at Kuroo’s message for a while, then replies.

 

Kuroo feels like shit. 

She feels like shit party because there’s a hangover creeping into head and stomach, but she also feels like shit because just hours before, she all but kicked the cute girl out of her place.

Kuroo kicked her guest out when she found herself texting Tsukishima while they were still in bed together. 

Now she’s still in bed, a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand. Usually she doesn’t get hangovers, but she thinks she mixed a few too many different kinds of drinks.

Her phone vibrates from inside her sheets, and she scrambles to find it. It’s been a few hours since she texted Tsukishima, and if she’s completely honest, she was still a little drunk when she texted her.

She groans when she rereads what she sent.  _ Take out at mine tonight? _ Which they both knew was code for hooking up. “God,” Kuroo lets her head fall back onto her pillow, “When did I get so sleazy?” 

Tsukishima’s reply is neutral:  _ I’m at the library, not tonight. _

_Of course, not tonight,_ Kuroo tells herself, feeling thoroughly displeased and ashamed of herself. She thinks, _This is a new low_ , then puts her phone to sleep and buries herself in the covers. 

But her blankets smell unfamiliar from the new person that spent the night in her bed, and she pushes through the pounding headache and the nausea and gets up. First, she strips the bed clean and throws everything in her laundry basket. Her pillowcases, sheets, and blankets create a giant heap as they overflow onto the floor. Then, she kicks the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed in the direction of the growing pile of laundry. When that’s done, she chugs a glass of water and decides to shower before dragging everything to the washing machines in the basement.

The water sits heavy in her stomach, and she heads to the bathroom with a towel. She cranks the shower to cold and jumps in, shuddering when the cold water hits her back. It wakes her up a little, and she turns it to a milder setting before wetting her messy hair. The emotional and vaguely physical grime she feels slowly sloughs off, and she relaxes into the water. To finish chasing the feeling away, she washes her hair and soaps up her body before another long rinse.

The shower helps to motivate her, and the water she’d chugged helped to alleviate her hangover. She doesn’t dry her hair, but lets it drip cooly onto her shoulders, her towel folded around her chest. She trails a thin line of water back to her room, which always irritates Bokuto to no end. 

 Feeling refreshed, Kuroo dresses before hauling her laundry downstairs. While it’s in the washing machine, she makes herself a light breakfast (at this point, it’s closer to a late lunch than a breakfast) and cleans the kitchen counters. She feels focused and productive, and when her laundry is finished she puts everything away and goes to pick up some take out.

With her confidence restored, she walks from the restaurant to the library, to see if she can find Tsukishima. 


	5. Resistance

Kuroo walks all over the library before she finds Tsukishima. The entire time she’s looking, she worries that the food will get too cold. It’s packaged neatly into plastic containers and has no insulation besides the thin bag they gave her at the counter. In her backpack, she has a few drinks from the convenience store and a package of strawberry shortcake-flavored cookies Tsukishima would never admit to liking, but absolutely loves. Kuroo knows, because she’s bumped into Tsukishima buying them on several occasions. 

She’s almost ready to give up on finding her when she thinks to peek through the windows of the private study carrels on the ground floor. For the most part, the blinds are closed, but she catches a glimpse of long blonde hair through one and knocks once before opening it. 

It’s a gamble, so the relief she experiences when she opens the door and sees Tsukishima’s irritated expression is boundless. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she couldn’t find her. The need to see her face to face had been pressing on her all day.

“What are you doing?” Tsukishima sounds as irritated as she looks. Kuroo knows she shouldn’t be amused, but she is nonetheless.

She tries not to show her amusement and instead holds up the take out bag as a sign of goodwill, while saying, “I thought you might get hungry, holed up in here on a Saturday.” She enters the small space and closes the door behind her. In the carrel, there’s a narrow desk and one shelf. There’s enough room for one person to sit comfortably with a spread of study materials, but it begins to feel cramped with two people.

“I’m fine, and kind of in the middle of something.” She turns her back to the door and hunches over her work. Her laptop is open in front of her, and her browser is open to the class portal for one of her mathematics courses.

Unsure of how to proceed, Kuroo decides to push through. She sets the bag on the desk in front of Tsukishima and begins to pull out utensils and drinks. She names the dishes as they appear out of the bag, eager to fill the silence.

Tsukishima isn’t buying it. “Kuroo,” she says warningly, eyeing the meal with a distrustful expression. She pointedly pushes her papers out of the way of the bag as if it were leaking all over.

“You can’t deny how good this smells,” she says, redirecting Tsukishima to the take out. “I even brought dessert.” On the word “dessert” she places the pink package of cookies onto the desk.

The sight of the cookies warms her apprehensive expression by several degrees. She is beginning to feel hungry, but doesn’t care for Kuroo’s pushy and presumptuous arrival. “I really am busy.”

“Too busy to eat?” Kuroo raises one eyebrow and eyes her with a level of confidence too large for the cramped study carrel. Kuroo is confident and brash, and sticks to what she knows. She is also incredibly stubborn, and now that she’s in the carrel she isn’t planning on leaving.

“Too busy to deal with you—” she stops herself mid-sentence because of the flicker of hurt passing over Kuroo’s face. She sighs, and her conversation with Yamaguchi comes back to her. “Sorry, I’m just not in the mood for company right now.”  _ Especially yours, but that’s not important.  _ Tsukishima doesn’t usually temper herself in this way, she usually prides herself on her blunt honesty.

Kuroo purses her lips, her hands pausing above the take out box she was in the middle of opening. Her hands retreat, and she says, “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair, but I’m leaving this behind.” To prove her point, she fishes her backpack from the ground and puts her own drink back in it. She doesn’t meet Tsukishima’s eyes, the shitty feeling from earlier returning in full. This time, it’s impossible to blame the hangover.

Tsukishima pulls off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Okay, wait.”

Kuroo pauses, uncertain of what’s to come.

“You can’t just leave all this here, eat before you go. You brought it.”

There’s an uncomfortable, scary feeling in Kuroo’s gut, but she ignores it—because she’s stubborn and needs to focus on staying in Tsukishima’s presence. She puts her drink on the counter and drops her bag back onto the floor. There isn’t enough room for another chair, so she perches on the edge of the desk. Tsukishima accommodates her in silence, shuffling her things around into neat piles to make space. As Kuroo settles into position and leans into pulling the plastic containers from the bag, Tsukishima catches a whiff of clean laundry. She notices this detail, but doesn’t commit it to memory.

Things between them are obviously awkward, and Kuroo tries to break the silence by talking about the restaurant. It’s one of her favorites, and she’d been meaning to take Tsukishima there for weeks. Tsukishima accepts what she offers without much emotion. They had never really made plans to go out to eat, they almost always got take out if they were to share a meal.

Frustration simmers in the bottom of Kuroo’s gut, and she’s unsure of what to make of it. Finally, she gives up. “I’m sorry.”

“About?” Tsukishima acts busy closing the tabs open on her computer, as if she doesn’t know what Kuroo is talking about. She is slowly making her way to the food, she doesn’t want to admit that Kuroo’s timing lined up with her growling stomach.

Fighting the urge to groan, she says, “Last night,” flatly and watches Tsukishima’s face.

But Tsukishima has perfected her face. Her expression is smooth and neutral, and after seeing so many sides of her, Kuroo’s frustration threatens to boil over. She’s seen her laughing after a well-placed snide comment, triumphant and prideful after good blocks, and flushed from the intensity of their physical chemistry. This neutral expression is the first Tsukishima presents to others, and seeing it now felt to Kuroo like a wall looming before her.

That clean, careful expression makes her want to pull her hair out.

“It’s fine,” she answers tersely, which is about as much as Kuroo expected. What she doesn’t expect is for her to ask, “I take it you enjoyed the rest of your night?”

Kuroo weighs her options, “It could have been better.”

There’s a distinctly unfamiliar expression that Tsukishima wears for a fleeting moment, but it’s gone before Kuroo can decipher it. All she gets as a hint is a bland, “Too bad,” in reply.

Tapping her chopsticks on the edge of the container she chose for herself, Kuroo hums. “Are you sure you’re not free tonight?” She wants to say,  _ We can just watch something. We don’t have to go to my room. We can go to a party, or some shitty campus event,  _ but doesn’t.

At this, Tsukishima drops her chopsticks on the desk and turns in her chair until she’s fully facing Kuroo head on. “Don’t you have any shame?” The words are out before she can help them, and her careful composure falls away. There’s more of her authentic self in this look.

Kuroo can’t distinguish the expression on her face, so she does the only thing she can think of doing: she leans down and kisses Tsukishima square on the lips.

It catches her by surprise, but her annoyance and irritation are replaced by a bitter kind of passion. She returns the gesture in kind, parting her lips when Kuroo’s tongue seeks purchase. Soon they’re tangled together, knotted up between the chair and the desk and pushing the take out containers and books out of the way. Teeth grasp at bottom lips and slender fingers twist in the other’s hair.

Kuroo is taller than Tsukishima, but not by much. Soon they’re both standing and Tsukishima is pressed against the wall of the carrel. She catches a glimpse of the open blinds but is swept up into the heat of Kuroo’s breath on her lips and the searching, heavy presence of her tongue before she can worry about it. She feels the warmth of her fingertips pressing under the hem of her sweater, and for another brief moment she can’t believe that she’s caught up in Kuroo’s stupid rhythm again. But here she is, panting as Kuroo’s lips trail down her cheek to her neck, where they press hard into her neck. She arches into the contact, digging her fingers into Kuroo’s upper arms to egg her on, as if it were a dare. 

Her own fingers find their way to the waist of Kuroo’s jeans, and in practiced motions, undoes the button. With a satisfied noise, Kuroo hums and returns the favor, dropping to her knees in order to tug the soft material of her pants over her thighs. Tsukishima makes an impatient noise and tangles her fingers in her hair, reveling in the way Kuroo’s breath glances across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Kuroo places a strong, firm hand on Tsukishima’s stomach and used her other to push a thin layer of material away from the heat between Tsukishima’s legs. 

Their food sits, forgotten, as the study carrel heats considerably.


	6. Wisen Up

Moments after Kuroo drops to her knees, as she peppers kisses over the slopes of her thighs, Tsukishima comes to her senses.

She stiffens, her body going rigid as she lets her head fall back against the wall. Kuroo feels the sudden change and looks up at her, expecting a different expression than the one she finds.

Her stomach sinks, and there’s a break where neither of them say anything or move. Then the air in the carrel changes.

Tsukishima speaks first, “I don’t want to do this right now.” She feels off center, and hears the words come out of her mouth as if they came from a distance.

Kuroo rocks back to the balls of her feet and drops her hands to her knees. She doesn’t stand at first, she just exhales slowly as Tsukishima straightens her shirt and pulls her pants up. It’s clumsy in the small space, so she stands to give her more room. “Okay.” She says, running a hand through her hair. Instead of meeting Tsukishima’s eyes, she leans against the opposite wall and fixes her own clothes. She looks at the ground and thinks, fleetingly, of the last time they had been in a carrel together. Their activities had started similarly, but ended quite differently. She pushes the memory away.

When she looks up, she sees a familiar blush is warming Tsukishima’s cheeks. Her lips, now pursed, are cherry red from their kissing. Her eyes are cast to the side, and she pulls her braid over her shoulder, running one hand down its length. Neither of them know what to say, and the air between them is heavy and thick with awkwardness.

Kuroo clears her throat and tentatively asks if Tsukishima is alright.

Her dark eyes lift to meet Kuroo’s, and she says, “I’m fine, I’m just in the middle of something.”

Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Kuroo tries to decipher her answer. She can’t tell if it’s a dismissal so that she can get back to work, or an allusion to something on Tsukishima’s mind. The memory of Akaashi bent close to her at the party pulls at her attention, but she pushes the thought out of sight as soon as it floats to the surface. Kuroo hums thoughtfully, then says, “Alright, I can go— unless you’d like to talk about it?” She offers, her voice uncertain. They never really  _ talk _ . Serious topics are reserved for more serious acquaintances and actual friends. That part of their agreement is unspoken.

Tsukishima fixes her with an intense, inscrutable look. “Maybe later.” She is surprised that Kuroo would offer in the first place, but feels unwilling to actually take her up on the suggestion. She knows that Kuroo is in the center of what she feels mixed up about, and isn’t ready to open that door yet, if ever.

Blowing some air through her lips, Kuroo looks around the carrel. Their food sits on the desk, all but forgotten, and she shrugs. “Alright, let me know if you want help with your multivariable work.” She tries to summon her usual grin, but even she can feel it sit weakly on her face.

Tsukishima glanced between her computer and Kuroo, guessing that the other girl had seen the tabs open on her computer. “Yeah,” she says, noncommittally. 

There’s another awkward pause, and Kuroo grabs her backpack from the ground. “Good luck with your work,” she says, turning to open the door.

“You should really take all this with you.” Tsukishima says quickly, eyeing the food Kuroo is leaving behind.

She looks over her shoulder to the food, then shrugs again. “Nah, you paid last time we got take out. Don’t worry about it.” She leaves, quietly closing the door behind her. 

Tsukishima gives herself a minute, feeling a little weird and unsteady, before she sits back at the desk and picks up her phone. She glances at her notifications, then sets it down to stare at her computer. After the quiet of the room sets in, and the sight of the take out boxes makes her stomach rumble, she picks up her phone again. She dials Yamaguchi, to see if she can come over with all the excess take out because after that exchange, she’s not in the mood for studying or eating alone.

 

Yamaguchi answered on the first ring, and invited Tsukishima over in the same beat. The food is cold by the time Tsukishima arrives, but it’s not really a concern. She’s more preoccupied by the interaction with Kuroo and the prospect of seeing Yamaguchi’s new apartment.

“Tsukki,” of course, Yamaguchi greets her by the old nickname. She’d asked no questions on the phone, and her expression was as warm and inviting as the inside of her apartment. The warmth of it all— the open door, Yamaguchi’s ready understanding, and the prospect of sorting out whatever she was dealing with a friend—help to erase some of the offbeat grossness lingering over Tsukishima’s head.

She steps over the threshold, and feels some of the stress in her shoulders and back begin to melt away. “Thanks for having me over on such short notice,” she says as she attempts to take her backpack and coat off while holding the take out bag.

“It’s no problem,” Yamaguchi says honestly, “Here. I can take that bag so that you can get settled.”

“Thanks,” she says again, bending to take off her shoes. “It’s probably pretty cold by now, we’ll have to warm it up.”

Her eyebrows lift in a silent question, and she leads the way down the narrow hall once Tsukishima’s layers are abandoned. “That’s not a problem, I actually picked up a microwave earlier this week, so this can be its first true test.”

Tsukishima scans the first room they enter, which is the living room. There’s a small TV in the corner, which she recognizes from Yamaguchi’s childhood room. A painting hangs above a worn corduroy couch, and there’s a chipped coffee table in the the center of the floor. The first room is clean, modest, and well lived-in. She continues to follow as Yamaguchi leads her into the kitchen, which is cramped but still homey. There’s a vase with a dried bouquet in the center of a square table pushed into the only available corner.

“Sorry it’s not much,” Yamaguchi starts, but Tsukishima waves her off.

“I appreciate you having me, and I like your apartment.” The flowers on the table catch her attention, but she saves her questions about them for later. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Yamaguchi smiles as she reaches up into one of her cabinets, “If you could set up the food so that we can serve ourselves, I’ll get plates and utensils so that we can heat it up.”

Squeezing past her to get further into the small kitchen, Tsukishima takes the bag from where Yamaguchi set it on the counter and begins to spread its contents on the little table. She’s impressed by Kuroo’s selection, but would never admit that to her.

“You said someone else bought this?” Yamaguchi breaks the silence, which Tsukishima hadn’t noticed settling between them. 

“Oh,” she glances down at her hands, which are holding a black container with a clear lid. There’s some kind of noodle inside, and she recognizes it as a dish Kuroo frequently orders.

“That friend I was telling you about before, they ordered it.”

“Your… friend?” She asks, her voice puzzled, she pauses with one hand in an open drawer. “Oh!” Realization spreads across her face, and she goes back to pulling out sets of plain chopsticks. “Your friend with benefits.”

“Yeah, that one.”

“And they just gave it to you?” 

“Not exactly,” Tsukishima settles into one of the chairs, and gestures for Yamaguchi to go first. There’s a moment of hesitation from her friend, but she insists, “Please, go ahead.”

Obliging, Yamaguchi begins to take portions for herself, loading up a small plate. She doesn’t say anything, just waits for Tsukishima to continue.

“Alright, I’ll start from the beginning,” she says resolutely. And so, as they gather their plates and settle into the living room. Tsukishima tells Yamaguchi everything there is to say about her relationship with Kuroo. Their embarrassing beginning, the routine yet thrilling middle, and their confusing present. By the time she’s finished, Tsukishima’s food is cold again, and Yamaguchi gazes at her thoughtfully from over her own plate.

A long silence stretches between them.

Yamaguchi breaks it by putting her plate on the small coffee table. She clears her throat and says levelly, “It’s obvious to me that you have feelings for her.”

Tsukishima drops her eyes from Yamaguchi to her plate, letting the words sink into understanding. Little things begin to align, and when she realizes, all she can think is: “Shit.”


	7. Loose Ends

“Maybe you’re just not as good at giving head as you think.”

Kuroo groans and drops her head into her palms. “Bokuto,  _ please _ .”

Her friend stifles a laugh and sinks further into the couch, where she sits with one arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. The three of them are in the living room of Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment, Bokuto and Akaashi having been dragged out of bed well before they were ready. It’s fairly early, because Kuroo spent a restless night mentally replaying every interaction she’s had with Tsukishima. 

“At least be honest,” Akaashi says drily, “You’re the only one who could say for certain.”

Bokuto, mid-sip of coffee, chokes then stutters, “Oh my god, next time you expose a girl’s secrets give her a heads up.” She blushes a little and runs a hand through her hair to regain her composure before she dares to take another sip of coffee.

Kuroo rolls her eyes, grateful to Akaashi for the shift in mood, “It’s not even a secret.”

Lowering her mug, Bokuto opens her mouth to protest, but Akaashi cuts her off, “I’m sure the people on your floor didn’t  _ want  _ to know.”

“Come on! I’m not that loud—” she cuts herself short, though, unable to commit to the lie. Her blush deepens until she’s scarlet, and she looks away, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the other two.

Akaashi regards her fondly, mussing her already unruly hair before turning her eyes back to Kuroo. She’s known about their freshman year fling since she and Bokuto started to spend time together, and it doesn’t worry her. She focuses on Kuroo and tries to redirect the conversation to her needs. “So obviously there’s something that’s really bothering you about this.”

“Yes, but—” she sighs, exasperated, “—it’s not that she stopped me. It’s just, like, how she  _ was _ after.”

“You did surprise her,” Bokuto points out. “She was studying, and you know how sometimes she just doesn’t want company. I don’t think you should take that personally.”

Kuroo drops her head into her hands, unwilling to admit that she had a point. 

“Also— and stop me if I’m overstepping— you explained that your arrangement is non-exclusive, but she might not have been interested in hooking up right after you spent the night with someone else.” Akaashi says this without judgement, but Kuroo feels a swirling of guilt in her stomach regardless.

“It was kind of slimy, bro,” Bokuto says matter of factly, reinforcing Kuroo’s guilt with sharp precision. “And it was kind of weird for you to go  _ looking _ for her in all the carrels.”

Sliding back into the couch, Kuroo eyes the pillow next to her, her fingers itching to launch it at Bokuto’s face.She folds her hands in her lap instead and sighs. Both of them are right: she was being pushy and weird, and leaving Tsukishima without probing for a reason was the right move, at least. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still wearing that scummy feeling today.” She pauses, contemplating her friends, who watch her with blank expressions. She feels something ominous looming in the conversational distance. Wary, she decides to face whatever it is, and says, “So what should I do then? Should I talk to her? Apologize? It feels weird to apologize for hooking up with someone else, or putting moves on her right after, because that implies that I overstepped a boundary that we’ve never discussed... and it feels even weirder to apologize for whatever happened in the carrel. How would I do that?”

Akaashi shakes her head, but Bokuto starts to speak first. “We’ve already established that you sleeping with someone else isn’t the issue.” She shifts her position so that her arm is no longer around Akaashi’s shoulders, choosing to cradle her mug as she speaks. Her expression grows serious, as if Kuroo’s troubles are her greatest concern. “And there’s nothing inherently wrong about sleeping with multiple people in the same weekend, especially if there’s an understanding of non-exclusivity and everyone is consenting.”

“But then,  _ what _ is the issue?” Kuroo groans, leaning her head back against the couch. For a fleeting moment, she wishes that things had never changed. She doesn’t know when or how or why they did.

She misses the silent look that passes between the couple on the other sofa. She can guess what they’re thinking, because it’s what she already knows. She knows she’s acting dumb because she likes Tsukishima. The reason she’s venting to her friends is because she wants to have the opportunity to deny it when they suggest that she’s gone  _ way _ past the no-feelings-sex-only phase with her. They’re too good of friends for that though, and make her figure it out on her own.

 

Tsukishima doesn’t bother to get in touch with Kuroo for almost a week after the study carrel. She’s irritated about the predicament she finds herself in, because she told herself —and Kuroo— that she wasn’t interested in feelings. Facing them is uncomfortable, inconvenient, and seemingly pointless. Kuroo has shown that she’s not interested in much beyond the physical, the previous weekend was further proof of that, and it would be foolish to expect more of her than what she could provide. She finds herself torn between the intersection of rational thinking and irrational feeling.

Faced with this challenge, she does what any average college kid would do, and attempts to ignore her problems by going to a party. 

It’s bigger than the parties she usually attends, and she’s alone because Yamaguchi is running late. She’s supposed to meet both her and her mysterious, flower-gifting partner, Shimada. So, she waits, with a solo cup full of a thin, flavorless beer in one hand and her phone in the other, outside on the porch where it’s less crowded. She doesn’t know any of the numerous people dancing inside by name, she only recognizes one or two by sight, and she doesn’t feel like meeting anyone new tonight.

Instead of socializing, she occupies herself by watching people come and go from the house, pretending to be scrolling through her phone while she studies the crowds. The front porch is square, with enough room for her to lean comfortably on the railing despite the handful of people spilling out the door and onto the lawn. There’s a bench and some chairs, but they’re occupied, so she staked out a corner for herself. It’s dark out, and the neighborhood she’s in is full of house parties like this. The music from the living room sounds muted and sweet from her perch, and the night air is cool on her cheeks.

Sipping on her beer, she absently scans a group of people coming up from the sidewalk, hoping to see Yamaguchi in the mix. Instead, she spots a tall bedheaded girl with expressive dark eyes, a lean, athletic build, and the confidence of a star athlete.

She freezes to the spot, her phone still held in front of her face as if she were scrolling through her social media. Her heart picks up in her chest at Kuroo’s unexpected appearance, and she hopes fruitlessly that she hasn’t been spotted. If Yamaguchi were there to be a buffer, it would be a different story, but she suddenly feels very exposed and very unready. 

Kuroo approaches the house, talking to someone Tsukishima finds vaguely familiar. She can’t place the other girl, and assumes she’s a newer member of Kuroo’s team. Ducking her head, she watches Kuroo approach through her lashes, absently scrolling through her feed while willing the other girl to look past her. She doesn’t have the energy for the interaction. 

But Kuroo sees her, the backlighting from the orange streetlamps casting a warm glaze over her hair and shoulders, and there’s a moment that pauses and hangs between them. Tsukishima feels her throat tighten with hesitation, and she sees Kuroo climb the porch steps in her peripheral vision. A small, observant, voice in the back of her head notes that Kuroo was quick to dismiss the girl next to her.

“Hey—” Kuroo is in front of her now, wearing a form-fitting black tank, a red bomber jacket, and dark grey, torn skinny jeans. Her hair is carefully messy, her eyes rimmed with the subtle, but striking, liner she usually chooses for the weekend. The greeting was stunted, almost breathless and inaudible over the muffled crowd and music surrounding them. It makes her heart skip a beat, and she clamps down on the feeling, pushing her nerves away until they’re under control.

“Kuroo,” she greets drily. She glances towards the sidewalk, from the direction Kuroo had just approached, in an attempt to convey that she’s waiting for someone.

Taking in Tsukishima’s appearance, she waits until her glance returns from the sidewalk. The other girl is reserved and feels inaccessible,  _ Typical _ , Kuroo muses. “Can we talk for a minute?” While Tsukishima is looking away, she takes in the way the dim light softens her distant expression. Her eyes, downturned, are darker than normal, making Kuroo feel all the more aware of the space holding them apart.

“About?”

A wry smile lifts Kuroo’s lips, and her expression is unsurprised. “The other day.”

_ It was last week,  _ Tsukishima thinks absently, lifting her eyes to meet Kuroo’s,  _ Don’t make it seem like it’s more significant than it is _ . Instead of speaking her mind, she says, “What about the other day?” just to be difficult.

The wryness seeps out of Kuroo’s smile and it lifts into a more genuine expression that just barely surprises Tsukishima. “That thing you’re in the middle of,” her words are careful, way more careful than the soft pull of her lips or the reckless way she leans in to speak over the conversations surrounding them, “Did you want to tell me about it?”

For a brief moment, she feels irritated. Kuroo asked to talk, but it feels like she’s placing the burden of the conversation onto Tsukishima. In her irritation, she slips and says, “Since when do you care about other people’s feelings?”

An unreadable expression passes over her features, but it’s gone before Tsukishima can place it. “It’s not  _ other _ people’s feelings I care about.”

“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes, “You only care about your own.” It feels safe to do it this way, to pick a fight and push her away, so that she won’t be tempted to be drawn back in, the way she usually is.

Kuroo searches her face, and she leans away, making Tsukishima realize how close they’d gotten. There’s a pause, and Kuroo glances around the deck. No one is really paying attention to them, but she says, “Would you mind walking with me for a minute?”

“I’m waiting for someone.”

Pursing her lips, as if in displeasure, Kuroo glances down the sidewalk. She  _ really _ wants to ask who she’s meeting, but decides to stick to the task at hand. “You’re right.”

Tsukishima snorts, as if this is well known fact.

“For the most part, I do only care about my own feelings.” Kuroo gazes at her levelly, her eyes clear and focused. “Right now, the feelings I’m most concerned with are the ones I have for you.”

Tsukishima stares at her, unable to process the meaning of her words. “Are you serious?”

A longsuffering expression passes over her face, “ _ Yes, _ I’m serious.” She sighs, then shifts her weight. “Look, I  _ like _ you, Kei. You’re smart, tall, gorgeous, and you take no shit. I know we said no feelings, but I caught them anyway.” She gestures openly with her hands when she speaks, to stress her point. Her confidence falters and she glances back to the house, “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same— I just, wanted you to know. So that we’re on the same page,” she adds.

Tsukishima doesn’t answer, just swallows as she replays Kuroo’s unexpected confession.

Kuroo blows some air through her lips and turns to leave, but Tsukishima stops her. The distance between them feels acutely in focus, and she says, “Wait—” she doesn’t want to know, but she has to ask, “So, why did you—?” she doesn’t finish the sentence.

Guilt and shame pass over Kuroo’s features, “Because I’m shit when it comes to feelings. I’m sorry.”

“No, we’re not— it’s fine, you don’t have to—” her mouth is moving on its own. She wants that apology, feels relieved when it comes, even though it’s nothing she deserves, really.

Kuroo deflates a little when Tsukishima doesn’t reply to her feelings and looks out over the yard. She sees a girl coming up the steps, peering around looking for someone.  _ Maybe she’s the reason Tsukishima came here in the first place.  _ She decides to leave, so she doesn’t have to meet the other girl, regardless of their relationship.

“Tetsuro.” 

Her head whips around, startled by the sound of her first name on Tsukishima’s lips.

Shaking her head, with a half smile on her lips, she says. “I know how you feel.”

The first thing she blurt isn’t what she wants to say, “Do you want to leave?” She backtracks immediately, not even giving Tsukishima a chance to reject her, “We don’t have to go to mine or— do anything— but, do you want to go somewhere and talk? Or something?” she adds, uselessly.

Tsukishima considers her for a long moment, studying the way the dim light (and the tender, awkward way she’s holding herself) softens her. “Sure,” she says, “Let’s go.” She glances down to her phone, “It looks like my friend is running late, I’ll let her know that I’ll meet up with her later.” She sends a quick message to Yamaguchi, and leads the way down the front steps, Kuroo close behind.


	8. Post Script

The next morning, Kei wakes and rolls onto her side, nestling down in the blankets and pillows and the soft warmth that is Tetsuro. Her long hair, messy and free, tickles Kuroo’s nose, making her stir.  Arms fold around her more closely, and she feels a deep sigh of contentment stirring her hair. It’s Sunday morning, and they lay in bed, their legs tangled together. 

She’s warm, tucked up against Kuroo, and the feeling of their skin pressed close together fills her with an unfamiliar and sensual comfort. It’s intimate, waking up together, and she wonders all the night’s she’d left while Kuroo slept would have ended in mornings like this. The previous night, they’d went for a long walk to talk out all of details of their relationship. They’d talked about how their feelings developed, and how they wanted to proceed with their arrangement. It was easy for them to get it all out in the open, and easy for them to agree on what they wanted to be: tentatively together, firmly exclusive. 

Shifting, she tilts her head up to Kuroo, who breathes a soft, “Kei,” in response to the movement. 

“You planning on sleeping all day?” she murmurs, letting her fingers trail lazily down Kuroo’s side. 

“It’s early, why get up?” she answers, her eyes still closed. At Kei’s soft chuckle, she opens them just barely, and finds herself looking down into perfection. Kei, dressed in an oversized tank of Tetsuro’s, her long hair free and messy and spread across their pillows, with her head tilted up, a relaxed, bemused expression on her fine features. “I’m  _ definitely _ not getting up now that I know I’m not dreaming you being here,” she says cheesily, earning herself a robust eyeroll. 

“Did you already forget about meeting that friend I was telling you about for lunch today?”

“The one you were supposed to meet last night?” Tetsuro ducks her head and buries her nose between the pillows and Kei, letting herself breathe in the sweet, familiar scent of Kei’s shampoo.

“Yeah, Yamaguchi. Since we talked longer than I expected, I signed us up for lunch. I’ll buy this time,” she adds thoughtfully, remembering the take out from their earlier exchange.

Tetsuro hums in pleasure, and says, “Ooh, do you want to split an entree with me?”

“You’re not serious, you eat more than a teenage boy.” Kei shakes her head, and leans away to look at her, “I’m  _ never _ going to split an entree with you.”

“Oh come on,” she teases, nestling herself a little closer, “Wouldn’t it be cute?”

They’re on the edge of the bed, and Kei inches away, “It’s not cute if I don’t get anything to eat.”

She laughs, the sound rumbling in her chest, “Alright, alright, no split entrees, but maybe dessert?” She punctuates the question by touching her nose to Kei’s in a gentle, affectionate offering. 

Kei tilts her chin, squeezing in a little closer as she closes the distance between their lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Mmhm,” Tetsuro hums and presses into Kei until the planes of their bodies are totally parallel. “Alright, I’m ready when you are.”

They linger like that, squished into each other on the warm, narrow bed, until they can’t stay there any longer.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this has been in the works for so long. Thank you for your patience and kudos <3


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